Yes Man
by Spiritfoxgirl
Summary: Shaun finds himself unable to say 'No' to anything. Trouble is, this gets him trapped in a sex club with a raunchy bartender. Shaun/Desmond, Alternate Universe.


For the past six months, Shaun Hastings had been going through hypnosis therapy. After being griped at by his peers, coworkers, and employers for his snarky attitude, he finally agreed to go find some 'help', going to a suggested therapist. Some company called 'Abstergo' – not that he had paid attention to the name, at first. He wasn't terribly keen on going and talking about his 'issues' he seemed to have, but was assured that the hypnosis would be much quicker in changing his attitude, and his problem would be solved all the faster.

Originally, Shaun had merely gone as he was told to appease his boss. He had no desire to get fired from his job, and as long as he looked like he was making an effort to improve his demeanor, he was sure he'd keep his job. And with the economy as bad as it currently was, he wasn't sure how easily he'd find a job as nice as the one he currently held.

He had first noticed the chances within himself when he had been asked to do something he had no particular interest in doing. Immediately, he'd opened his mouth, begun to refuse…then found himself agreeing to do some frivolous task a coworker had asked for help with. Perplexed, his newly dubbed 'friend' had excitedly asked for help with various other projects – each of which Shaun agreed to, without meaning to.

He couldn't say "No". Every time he tried, his throat locked up, and his mouth went dry. This was quite…a problem, for him, as he found an extra mountain-load of work burdened down on him, as well as the fact that he couldn't say anything but _yes_ in response to questions. Furious, he'd demanded an explanation from his therapist – who quickly assured him that it was all a part of the process, and that he would soon see results to his behavioral problems. Then of course, when asked if he wanted to continue the therapy, he said "yes".

Bugger.

So, when Shaun had been irritably walking down the street and a flamboyant, drunken male had stumbled against him, grinning, tugging him on the arm.

" 'Ey there, lovely…want to have a good time?"

"Of course I do, you bloody idiot." Shaun found himself replying, his tone none-too-pleased, despite his angered tone.

And that was how Shaun had found himself in this…particularly exotic fetish club.

'_Not like I mind leather bars,'_ Shaun mused to himself, staring angrily into his drink, his drunk 'companion' having stumbled off somewhere. _'but I'd rather not stay and find out how far this 'yes' thing goes. Bloody hell…I need to get out of here.'_

And he had planned to do just that. Really. But as he stood up, he came face to face – or rather, face to chest – with a man slightly taller than him, twice as built, and wearing one of the most revealing outfits he'd ever seen.

The man before him was tall with slightly curly brown hair and hazel eyes. He wore leather pants that hugged his legs, and a strange buckled harness that crossed over his chest in an X. A collar around his neck identified him as an 'employee', the tag reading 'Desmond'. He had a distinctive scar over one side of his lips – which were plump and full, and he could just imagine them wrapping around his cock –

'_The hell!' _ Shaun shouted at himself, his face slowly flushing crimson, though he told himself it was out of anger. _'I don't need this!'_ "Get out of my way, mate." He muttered, trying to push past the attractive male, only to freeze up in surprise when he was pushed back against the bar, Desmond's leg pressed between his. Grinning down at him in a predatory manner, the man leaned forward, kissing his throat.

"Hey there, sexy…" he uttered, his voice low and husky. "You're overdressed for this kind of place…why don't you come in the back with me…and we'll find something for you to wear?" Desmond suggested, taking the lobe of his ear between his lips, suckling softly and running his teeth over the soft flesh, drawing a stuttered moan from the historian.

"O-Of course I want you to…find something better for me to wear, you stupid prick…" Shaun gasped – oh god, that tongue – that wasn't what he'd wanted to say, but it was like his mouth had a mind of it's own now. Fucking Abstergo. He was jerked from his thoughts when the tanned male pulled him into a rough kiss – all teeth and tongue, dominating, forcing his mouth open and claiming it like he owned him. Dear god he was good with his mouth – and Shaun didn't want it, _couldn't _want it – but all he could do was arch and moan like a whore.

What the _fuck_!

Shaun wasn't given much of a chance to ponder over what was going on, as he was now short of breath, his chest heaving, glasses perched awkwardly atop his nose. Desmond was grinning something fierce, idly pulling back and unbuckling the collar around his throat. He slowly slid the warm leather around Shaun's throat, seeming to delight in the shudder of the british man as he tightened it comfortably around his throat. Fingering the name tag, the bartender smirked.

"Looks good on you." Desmond chuckled, leaning in to nibble at his ear. "At least now they know who you belong to, mm?" he laughed a little at his own joke, pulling the speechless historian by the collar towards the back rooms. Moans, whimpers, and cries of pain and pleasure echoed in the hall that Desmond was taking him down, and Shaun could feel his face progressively growing redder. The lewd noises seemed all the more intimidating when muffled behind thick doors, and he couldn't ignore the growing heat between his thighs when Desmond stopped by an open door. He was pulled inside, the door closed and locked behind him.

Well shit, he was in for it now. Shaun swallowed and had opened his mouth to speak when Desmond pressed up behind him, groin lightly pressed against his backside. The historian had to bite back a moan of pleasure when he felt him grinding hard, able to feel the heat and hardness of his cock through his leather clothing. Smirking, Desmond lightly ran his hands up underneath Shaun's shirt, tracing the muscles of his abdomen and reaching to pinch and squeeze his nipples.

"You must be new to this, mm? But you want it." Desmond murmured, teeth scraping the shell of his ear.

"Fu-fucking…bastard. Y-yes…." Shaun ground out, arching into the touch of his hands, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. "Of course I've never…nmh…f-fuck. Done this….before…" The brunette admitted, chewing on his lower lip. The chuckle the bartender offered in reply made goosebumps raise on his neck.

"Mm…it's been a while since I've had someone new. This should be fun." He purred. He stripped off Shaun's vest, then undid his shirt, each button undone slowly, making Shaun shudder and ache for a faster pace. The historian was privately shocked at how much control Desmond seemed to have – he radiated heat and arousal, yet he could force himself to go slow…

It was incredible, and he knew he was…very literally, quite fucked. Desmond was going to drive him crazy and he would do nothing but moan for it like a whore – all because he couldn't say _no_.

He was snapped back to attention again when Desmond's hands moved to his hips, undoing his pants and pushing them downwards. Gasping quietly, Shaun grabbed his wrists, glancing back over his shoulder with a desperate gasp. "W-wait." He managed, his heart hammering in his chest. There had to be _some_ way to convey that he didn't want this – that he wasn't gay!

"What?" Desmond asked, nibbling at his neck. "You wanted to wear something more appropriate, mm?"

Well, fuck.

"Yes…just…get on with it, you bloody twat." Shaun snapped irritably, glaring over his shoulder at him. Desmond's grin was feral now, and he nodded, pushing his pants off and helping him remove his shoes before guiding him to a cushioned platform. He forced Shaun to kneel on it, casting him a look.

"Stay there." He ordered, smirking a little more when Shaun obeyed. He opened up a crate, pulling out an odd bar with two loops on either side. He locked the squirming historian into it, forcing him to lay with his ass in the air, wrists bound to his ankles. The sound of the lock clicking into place on his left side was so deliciously final that it made Shaun shudder.

A slow smirk spread over Desmond's lips, and he shifted to rummage through the box again. Pulling out a leather paddle, he let the soft black object rub teasingly over Shaun's ass, nudging against his balls before he leaned in, lips brushing the base of his spine. "Do you think you'd like to be spanked?" Desmond asked lowly, his voice husky with arousal.

The brit shuddered, then groaned at the attention, his hips arching back lightly. No, no he didn't want to be – "Y-yes…." He breathed, bending his head to press against the cushion he knelt on. "I-I bloody fucking would…" Shaun stammered, mentally cursing the weakness in his voice. He was halfway through a well-put insult when the Desmond first struck him, making him shout in surprise.

"That's better…." The bartender chuckled, pulling back, smacking him hard on the ass again, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips at the grunt he received in return. "I want you to count to ten." He said slowly, humming. "If you stop, I'm going to hit you again, and the count starts over. Sound's fun yeah?" he purred, watching as Shaun nodded mutely. "Good."

Shaun hadn't been aware that being struck in _any _manner would arouse him until now. The first strike made him gasp, but he managed to groan out the first number, bending his head forwards. The second made him falter, stammering – and he cursed as the count started over again, Desmond chuckling somewhere behind him. This continued, Shaun whimpering and groaning as his cock throbbed with want, each number coming out in garbled groans, soon followed by a string of curses.

By the time he'd gotten to ten, Shaun was slumped on the platform he sat on, his ass bright red and stinging, a low groan escaping as Desmond's fingers lightly brushed over the smarting flesh. He arched away from the touch, biting his lip. "F-fuck, that hurts…" he gasped out, then grunted as Desmond rolled him over, reaching up to clip an odd chain to the restraints holding his limbs immobile. Frowning, he shifted, forced to arch into a sit-up of sorts to look at Desmond properly and keep his ass from connecting with the cushioned platform. "W-what the bloody hell are you doing?" He demanded, watching as Desmond secured the chain, giving him just enough slack to squirm, but not get away.

"I'll be back." Desmond uttered lowly, his tone suggesting Shaun not try to squirm away. He left the room briefly, letting Shaun squirm, and relax against the cushion beneath him. Desmond returned with a few bottles of alcohol and some cream, making Shaun frown. What was he… "I'm thirsty." Desmond hummed, smirking. "Mind helping me mix a drink? You had a White Russian earlier…right?"

"Y-yes…" Curse his goddamn agreeable mouth. Much as he wanted to yell, to scream no, he couldn't. But at this point…he wasn't even sure he wanted that anymore. Shifting, he shuddered as Desmond forced him into that half-curled position again, the muscles of his stomach tense. He watched, licking his lips in anticipation as the bartender poured a bit of vodka over his navel, the fluid pooling there. He could barely breathe as he watched him add the second layer of alcohol to the 'drink', obviously enjoying himself. The puddle on his belly was growing, quivering with each quiet noise Shaun made. Finally, Desmond dribbled a bit of cream over his stomach, watching as a few dribbles of fluid slid between Shaun's legs, over his abused ass.

"F-fuck!" Shaun shouted loudly, the alcohol burning his reddened skin, making him shudder. Desmond grinned, seeming to know it would have produced this effect.

"Mm, good. Now stay that way." The bartender purred, shifting to lazily stroll around the other side of Shaun. He curled his fingers in the man's hair, unzipping his pants and letting his cock bob in the air, tapping against the historian's face. "Do you want this?" he asked, his voice a low growl. Shaun's mouth felt dry, and as Desmond tapped his cock over his lips, he found himself nodding – this time, without protest. He wanted to feel his lips wrapped around that length…

Tipping his head back, he hissed in pain again as a dribble of the drink spilled over him, forcing him to tense up his muscles. Once he was in a better position, he groaned quietly, finding himself staring, upside-down at Desmond's thighs, his lips parting to allow his cock past his lips. "Ahh, yeah…" Desmond hissed above him, hips rolling forwards.

The first press of that heavy, foreign heat inside his mouth was awkward, but not entirely unpleasant. He found himself opening his throat to accept it deeper, gagging about a third of the way down his cock. The quiet chuckle Desmond let out was both infuriating and pleasing, and it sent shivers down his spine as the man pulled out, then rolled his hips forward again, shallowly fucking Shaun's mouth.

Shaun Hastings had never felt so utterly helpless in his entire life. Bound, gagged on a mouthful of cock, his chest shuddering with each breath, skin reddened and streaked with White Russian – it wasn't a position he'd ever thought he would be in. Each time Desmond thrust forwards, a little more of the liquid spilled – and sent shocks of stinging pain through him, abrasions on his ass aggravated.

"Aah….fuck." He breathed out, hips jerking forwards a bit as he rolled them a little harder, cock sliding in and out of the brit's mouth, the hard tip pressing against the back of his throat, making him gag every so often. The gagging Shaun could deal with – it was the burn and strain to keep his stomach muscles tense that was beginning to get to him. Shaking, he shifted, unable to keep his body curled any longer, causing the alcohol to spill over his thighs and ass, sending sparks of fresh pain along his nerves. He choked out a loud groan of mixed pain and pleasure around Desmond's cock, whimpering as he grinned. Gripping his hair, he forced Shaun to deep-throat him, holding him there until he choked and whimpered for air before pulling back.

The noise that Shaun made when Desmond pulled back was lewd and wet, and he coughed a bit, his ass still stinging as he swore loudly in protest. "You bloody assho – oohhh…christ…" Shaun's exclamation trailed off into a deep groan as Desmond moved around the other side of him, his warm tongue lapping up the trails of drink that had been sliding down his skin.

A light smirk tugged at Desmond's lips, his tongue teasing along the sticky trails, teasing his thighs, the slick muscle running back and forth lightly over his tortured flesh. By the time he reached Shaun's reddened backside, the brit was arching, his chest heaving slightly with ragged breaths. Quiet whimpers of pleasure escaped his lips, his glasses sliding backwards, resting against his hairline. It wasn't until he felt a lubricated finger press against his entrance that he managed to speak again, unable to deny how good it felt.

"D-Desmond…fuck. Please. B-bloody…fucking – please." Shaun stammered, his hips jerking upwards as the tip of a finger pressed in, stretching him in a strange, but not unpleasant way. He rolled his hips a little towards Desmond's fingers, his head pressing back against the platform, teeth worrying at his lower lip. It was no longer a question of 'yes' or 'no' – Shaun wanted it, and he wanted it _now_. Each slow probe and press of that digit inside him was maddening and _good_. By the time Desmond had three fingers buried within him, thrusting slowly, Shaun was swearing on every other word, his glasses askew on his face, looking about ready to fall off his nose.

"Nn…fuck, I think you're finally ready." Desmond grinned, his lips curving into a cocky smile before he pulled the fingers out, slipping a condom onto his hard cock. The lube was opened again, wetness spread over the bartender's cock before he pressed the hard tip against his stretched sphincter, feeling it twitch against him. "Do you want this?" Desmond asked a final time, his breathing ragged, eyes half closed. His voice was strained with need – he doubted he could stop, even if Shaun said no.

At this point however, 'no' was the last thing on Shaun's mind.

"Yes…y-yes, you bloody idiot, I'm _arching_ for it and you know it, just fuck me already!" He snapped, his hips jerking towards the male urgently.

Desmond didn't need any more convincing than that. He slid into Shaun with one slow thrust, then began to fuck him brutally, his hips snapping hard and fast against him. Shaun could do nothing but babble and cry out brokenly, the only words he managed being Desmond's name and garbled pleas for more. The bespectacled man was shaking with need, rolling his hips urgently against Desmond, needing nothing more than release.

Having spent so long working the two of them up, Desmond found himself quickly building towards release, panting raggedly, his fingers digging into Shaun's hips, yanking them back against him. Leaning forwards just slightly, he nipped at the inside of Shaun's calve, teeth scraping the skin. "Are you going to cum?" he asked lowly, running a finger along the underside of Shaun's hard prick, noting the small pool of precum that had formed on his belly.

"Yes…yes, yes, f-fuck, yes! D-Desmond!" Shaun shouted, arching his back off the platform he laid on, his muscles squeezing down on Desmond as he came, painting his stomach with trails of white fluid. Grunting at the squeeze, Desmond pulled out quickly, yanking off the condom he wore and moving in front of Shaun now. All it took was a few quick strokes to his aching cock before he came, coating Shaun's face, hair, and glasses in his seed.

The both of them were left panting now in the aftermath, bodies singing with pleasure, exhaustion evident on their faces. Smiling fondly, Desmond undid the bar that had held him immobile, setting it aside. Leaning down, he fingered the collar Shaun still wore. "You can keep that." He purred, kissing his collarbone lightly. "Mm…and, maybe I can see you again…tomorrow night? I get off work at eight." He hummed suggestively, fingers lazily tracing circles on Shaun's belly.

Unable to stop himself, Shaun's voice was weak when he replied, breath coming in labored pants. "…S-sure thing, you annoying prick…" he muttered, closing his eyes. "Just give my arse some time to heal, will you?"

And Shaun knew from the quiet chuckle Desmond let out, that he would do no such thing. Fucking dick.


End file.
